Hewing they made the fire / from mail-rings scintillate, For each unto the other / bore a deadly hate. Of Bern the thane Wolfwein / at length did part the two,-- Which thing might none other / than man of mickle prowess do. 2279 Gunther, knight full gallant, / received with ready hand There the stately warriors / of Amelungen land. Eke did young Giselher / of many a helmet bright, With blood all red and reeking, / cause to grow full dim the light. 2280 Dankwart, Hagen's brother, / was a warrior grim. What erstwhile in combat / had been wrought by him Against the men of Etzel / seemed now as toying vain, As fought with flaming ire / the son of valiant Aldrian. 2281 Ritschart and Gerbart, / Helfrich and Wichart Had oft in storm of battle / with valor borne their part, As now 'fore men of Gunther / they did clear display. Likewise saw ye Wolfbrand / glorious amid the fray. 2282 There old Master Hildebrand / fought as he were wode. Many a doughty warrior / was stricken in the blood By the sword that swinging / in Wolfhart's hand was seen. Thus took dire vengeance / for Ruediger those knights full keen. 2283 Havoc wrought Sir Siegstab / there with might and main. Ho! in the hurly-burly / what helms he cleft in twain Upon the crowns of foemen, / Dietrich's sister's son! Ne'er in storm of battle / had he more feats of valor done. 2284 When the doughty Volker / there aright had seen How many a bloody rivulet / was hewn by Siegstab keen From out the well-wrought mail-rings, / the hero's ire arose. Quick he sprang toward him, / Siegstab then his life must lose. 2285 Ere long time was over, / 'neath the Fiddler's hand, Who of his art did give him / such share to understand That beneath his broadsword / smitten to death he lay. Old Hildebrand avenged him / as bade his mighty arm alway. 2286 "Alack that knight so loved," / spake Master Hildebrand, "Here should thus lie fallen / 'neath Volker's hand. Now lived his latest hour / in sooth this Fiddler hath." Filled was the hero Hildebrand / straightway with a mighty wrath. 2287 With might smote he Volker / that severed flew the band E'en to the hall's wide limit / far on either hand From shield and eke from helmet / borne by the Fiddler keen; Therewith the doughty Volker / reft of life at last had been. 2288 Pressed eager to the combat / Dietrich's warriors true, Smiting that the mail-rings / afar from harness flew, And that the broken sword-points / soaring aloft ye saw, The while that reeking blood-stains / did they from riven helmets draw. 2289 There of Tronje Hagen / beheld Volker dead. In that so bloody carnage / 'twas far the sorest need Of all that did befall him / in death of friend and man. Alack! for him what vengeance / Hagen then to wreak began! 2290